NORTHERN FRONT
"Do you know why people fear us, Robert?" Nyros asked with a calm smile. The thin air shimmered as he slowly revealed the sword strapped to his waist—its blade etched with devilish patterns that seemed to move under the fading light.
The silence between them was so deep, so unnatural, that the echoes of distant battles bled into their stillness. Then, the silence shattered.
"I don't fear you," Robert said, his voice deep and steady, a quiet defiance curling in his smile.
"You will," Nyros replied.
In a flash, he drew his sword. The air changed. Thin and sharp one second—heavy, suffocating the next. A crushing pressure rolled over the battlefield like a coming storm. It was as if the very air had turned to stone, squeezing breath from lungs and courage from hearts.
Nyros's eyes ignited in a blazing red glow, cutting through the dim battlefield like divine judgment. The earth trembled. Whispers turned to gasps. In a 2-kilometer radius, no one moved. They couldn't. Even without an attack, soldiers collapsed to their knees, choking on invisible power they couldn't understand.
But not Robert.
He stood firm—unmoving, untouched. His gaze tore through the pressure like a sword through silk. His calm stare stabbed into Nyros's confidence like a dagger.
Nyros froze.
This can't be happening, he thought. I'm using Arqui. No one survives Arqui. No one even stays conscious… yet he—
His throat dried. His grip on the sword tightened. Is it possible? Could he be… that person? But no, he's just a man. A soldier. A human...
Yet, another thought pierced through him like lightning.
He's from the Seven Warrior Kingdom... Could it be...? Does he have Arqui too?
"Yes. You're goddamn right," Robert said.
Nyros's eyes widened. How? How can he read my mind?
Before he could react, the pressure flipped. This time, it slammed into him like a thousand storms. Nyros gasped. Robert's eyes now burned with an even deeper red—a light that pierced the soul.
The battlefield cracked with invisible energy. The force of it pressed down on every living thing, tenfold stronger than before.
Gasps turned into screams. Panic spread like wildfire.
And Nyros… fell.
His consciousness slipped, but his mind didn't fade. Instead, he found himself drifting… into darkness.
In the void, a strange place without light or form, three figures stood.
Alfred opened his eyes.
He stood in that darkness—silent and cold. In front of him were two others: Nyros and Robert, locked in the same stance as in the battle moments before. But Robert's face... it was blurred, as if time itself refused to reveal him.
Confused, Alfred stepped closer. "What is this place? Nyros… why am I seeing this? Who is Robert? Is this your memory? Is this... is he my father?"
Nyros turned. For the first time, his expression betrayed surprise.
"You're impressive," he muttered. "Wait and watch. You'll understand everything."
Before Alfred could say another word, the darkness collapsed.
We return to the past.
The battlefield. The Northern Front.
Nyros's body lay motionless on the ground.
Robert stood tall above him, eyes cold, voice disappointed.
"So that's it? Is this all you had? What a waste of my time."
Is Nyros Varkari defeated? Or… is this just the beginning?